


Citizenship

by Janova_WrittenWorks



Category: Half-Life
Genre: City 8, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Metropolice Force, No major characters except maybe mentioned, Overwatch Transhuman Arm, Screw Gordon and the others, Universal Union, Upcoming Chapters Planned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janova_WrittenWorks/pseuds/Janova_WrittenWorks
Summary: Never would I have thought I'd stoop this low.I guess hunger and famine really can drive your actions…
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

That eerie, clinical voice, projecting through the trash-ridden streets once again.

"Attention ground units, uncivil malcompliant behavior reported in residential block D4. CODE: LOCK, SECURE, STERILIZE."

Hearing that damn dispatch system, I never got used to it. No one did. It got everyone paranoid they were next. Had I done something wrong? Sitting with my back against the wall, I stared at my "apartment" door. Waiting for those civil protection officers to break down my door. Silence… After what felt like an eternity, I heard it. The faint marching of MPF jackboots running down the hallway outside. Louder and louder they got, until they presumably stopped right outside of my door. The same robotic, feminine voice from the streets could be heard again, this time much quieter. Presumably through a unit's radio.

"Protection Team, report."

The officer's response was unintelligible, but then I heard that dreaded countdown begin. "Lock!" one sounded off.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"Inject!" A deafening gunshot rang out as I prepared myself for the inevitable. Screaming and pleads were heard, but not from me. I opened my eyes, seeing my door still intact. It was those across the hall, not me. Not this time.


	2. Recruitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suck at summaries, cut me some slack.
> 
> (Some of the spacing towards the end of this chapter got screwed up during posting, bear with me while I try to fix it.)

"State your name for the record." a heavily vocoded voice stated. A physically imposing officer was standing before me, wearing not the standard MPF uniform, but by my guess it was a higher ranking one. Matte-black all around, the only other difference was the faceplate. Consisting of more black coloring and glowing white lenses, what would normally have been two vertical filters had been replaced with a grill. In short, the faceplate resembled a skull. The look was intimidating, to put it lightly. "My name is Noah Front, and my Citizen Identification is #45172." I replied timidly. "Didn't even have to ask for your CID, great start." With the record units had with disrespect to average people like me, I couldn't tell if the remark was sarcastic. Seeing as you could be punished or penalized in general for the most obscure things, I decided to keep quiet. Proceeding to stare at the metal table seperating us, I drifted into thought. What had let me to this? Hunger and famine, I assumed. Someone coild only take so much. That being said, never would I have thought I'd take to joining those who have been oppressing me and others for so long. I suddenly snapped out of my daze as the threatening cop spoke up again. "What is your motivation for joining City 8's Metropolice Force?" I wasn't sure how to answer that, I didn't want to lie. Thinking for a brief moment, I decided to take a half-honest approach.

"I'm looking to find a purpose in life. I figured keeping order in the cities was the best approach. I'm also aware of the improved living conditions." I didn't believe the Union was keeping order, but I needed to have some appealing reason.

"Least you're honest." The officer replied before continuing on. "Now, do you have any skills you can provide?"

"Before the war, I used to be a car mechanic. That being said, I chose that job for a love of technology growing up. Loved making computers and robots as a kid." That was true, no lie there.

"Any experience with firearms?" they asked, seemingly ignoring anything I just said.

"I'm afraid I don't." I replied. The MPF unit gave a look for presumably frustration. My best guess due to the faceplate. In that moment, they got up and made a beeline for the heavy metal door behind me, saying not as much as a word. Upon the door sliding up into the top of the doorway, I caught sight of a transhuman soldier standing guard to the room. I immediately averted my gaze as the door dropped back down with a *clunk!* behind my interviewer. As much as I wanted to marvel at that OTA soldier, I couldn't bring myself to. I always herd rumors that the Overwatch Transhuman Arm drafted their soldiers from captured rebels and just simply those who broke enough rules. They stripped you of all humanity, removing digestive and reproductive organs. They then proceed to brainwash you, limiting any personal thoughts, all adding up to becoming a living machine against your will. Just watching that soldier stand inhumanly still. It gave me chills.

At that point I turned back around in my uncomfortable metal chair, waiting in silence. Why had the officer just left? Did I give the wrong answer? Sureply they would have said something, right? "Fuck…" I muttered as these rambling thoughts continued to clutter my brain.

As an indefinite amount of time had passed, I suddenly whipped my head around to the sound of mechanical whirring behind me. It startled me half to death. The same high ranking officer was standing in the doorway. What they said next gave me both fear and excitement.

"Citizen #45172, you have been accepted to draft into City 8's Metropolice Force." With that they turned around again, motioning to follow. And quickly I did. The unit led me through more corridors than I could remember. This city's nexus was a damn maze. It amazed me that anyone managed to navigate this place, let alone operate as a full armed force. Upon reaching a door, I spotted a label reading "Protection Team HAMMER-7"

"This will be your quarters along with three others whom you will be working with." The officer said. "They will be in shortly, for now you are to stay in here until further notice." With that, the unit promptly walked off, leaving me alone in the room I'd probably be calling home. Looking around, there wasn't a whole lot to take in. Two bunk beds on opposite walls, two footlockers underneath each. The only other detail in the room was an extremely fancy window sitting between the two beds. It had no right being in a facility like this. Granted the Universal Union made due with what was already available, just simply taking a new approach on the interior most times. Looking to the bottom bed on the right side, I spotted a metal box with with the same numbers as my CID. Must be for me, then. Walking over, I flipped the latches, opening it up. Inside rested a complete MPF uniform. Nothing special, only a standard suit. Reaching to inspect the metal gasmask, I turned to the sound of footsteps outside of the door. Three men walked through, all ranging in ages from early twenties to mid thirties. One of the presumably younger ones, wearing short brown hair and a sharp chin, headed straight for the bed across from me, flopping down on it. "Damn Union interviews! Left me in that room for two fucking hours!" they said, completely ignoring me. The second younger one, who had a buzzcut, replied. "You want to shut up? I know you don't want ANOTHER beating for YET ANOTHER audio violation! Those beatings must've finally screwed up your head." "Go fuck yourself!" Chinny said. The last one, who appeared older, presumably a japanese-american, moved over to the corner, leaning on the far wall and watching the two banter. After a moment, they man suddenly seemed to realize he had better things to be doing and approached me. "You the last one?" He asked. "For HAMMER-7, I mean." "Yeah, I'm Noah." I responded, stretching out a hand. "Connor, the one with the buzzcut is Mike." Connor took my hand as he continued. "Lived with him in the same apartment for a few months now. Really not sure who the dumbass is, just know he's an acquaintance of Mike." For the next few hours, Connor and I talked, just getting to know our future partners. The last one turned out to be Isaac. As more bantering went on between him and Mike for who knows how long, we all went about our business and soon enough, the outside sky had grown dark. Everyone else being asleep, I stared out the fancy window overlooking the courtyard of what was once a city hall. I thought to myself. "This could go wrong in so many ways…" With that, I returned to my bunk and let sleep consume me.


End file.
